


the comeback kid

by whisperedwords



Series: YingYang!verse [10]
Category: National Football League RPF
Genre: Daddy Kink, Gratuitous Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14293080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedwords/pseuds/whisperedwords
Summary: Eli shakes all the coaches hands and thanks them for a good first day, watches them head out the big glass doors of the facility, and then turns on a dime to look for Odell, who’d texted him five minutes ago that he’s “waiting” with an attached image that Eli’s phone has been trying to load since he’d gotten it.His phone dings quietly, echoing in the front room of the building, and Eli looks down at it. The image loads.The phone clatters to the floor almost immediately.





	the comeback kid

**Author's Note:**

> ghdsjghdskjlgjdsgkds this was literally so self indulgent and im really sorry if youre not into daddy kink but lets be honest here, o may just be the worlds bottomiest bottom and e is 6'4 of a whole ass man and if u dont think he'd be at least a LITTLE into being called 'daddy' well i have some news for u, sport
> 
> (locked because god i cant believe i wrote this like the piece of trash i am)

Neither of them are really surprised, retrospectively, at how their day ends. A whole offseason of separation on top of an entire  _actual_  season of separation—of course, they’d had their rendezvous in late February, but both had agreed in the main terminal of LAX that they’d spend more of their offseason working on their skills instead of lounging together for days on end. For the greater good, or something along those lines—they’d texted every night, called each other at least once a week, and got each other off long-distance every once in a while, but they’d remained focused on working hard. Getting better. Building towards being a respectable team, unlike the mess they’d left behind last season.

Seeing each other in person for the first time in almost two months seems to be the kind of reward that both Eli and Odell had had in mind. It’s only awkward for a moment or two as they shake hands while reuniting with their teammates—Odell’s fingers are trembling as Eli’s hand squeezes them gently, and he  _knows_  the rest of the team knows about them but there’s something rearing in him, something ready to snap on-sight when he locks eyes with his quarterback and notices the dangerous smile playing on his lips.

“Hey,” Eli murmurs, his gravelly tone travelling straight through Odell and then further south. Odell grins at him, swallowing whatever flirtatious comment that had been on his tongue and instead choosing to pull Eli close for whatever half-hug they’d been doing for years.

“Hey, E,” he replies, voice muffled in the soft cotton of Eli’s practice shirt. They stand there for a moment before being pulled away by other teammates and friends, and then by Coach Shurmur, who’d sat them all down and talked to them about the core values of their team—something that they’d apparently needed reminding of after their season of chaos. Workouts had been uneventful, apart from some much-needed team laughter, and by 3 everyone had packed their things up, said goodbye, and left.

Well, not everyone. Eli shakes all the coaches hands and thanks them for a good first day, watches them head out the big glass doors of the facility, and then turns on a dime to look for Odell, who’d texted him five minutes ago that he’s “waiting” with an attached image that Eli’s phone has been trying to load since he’d gotten it.

His phone dings quietly, echoing in the front room of the building, and Eli looks down at it. The image loads.

The phone clatters to the floor almost immediately.

Though he’s never been particularly known for being fast, Eli’s strides down the hallway towards the locker room are quicker than average, and as he half-skids to a stop in the door frame, he finds himself less out of breath than he thought he’d be. However, that changes as soon as he sees Odell leaned back against his locker, one hand slipping below the elastic waistband of his shorts, head thrown back so that the arch of his neck is lit perfectly underneath the fluorescent bulbs above them. Eli exhales shakily.

Odell hears this and his eyes shoot open for a moment, a flash of panic in them. It subsides quickly as Eli crosses the room to meet him, though, and has melted into anticipation by the time they’re within touching distance of each other. “ _Daddy_ ,” O breathes, standing on trembling legs to meet his quarterback fully. The sweat from their first workout hasn’t quite dried yet, leaving Eli’s hands a little damp as they immediately latch onto Odell’s face as they kiss, rough and passionate and messy as if they’re making up for lost time in this one split-second moment. Eli’s lips are insistent, and Odell doesn’t put up a fight to let his tongue inside, unable to stifle the soft moan at the immediacy of the contact.

Eli pulls away from him for a second before backing him up against the wood of his locker. “Hi, baby,” he purrs, and Odell’s breathing goes ragged as Eli dips down to leave a biting, brutal kiss just below his jaw. His teeth scrape hard enough for Odell to grunt, bringing Eli back up so that they’re nose-to-nose. “Miss me?”

“Nah,” O teases despite his uneven breathing. He winds his arms around Eli’s shoulders and leans into him so that he’s practically dangling. Eli raises an eyebrow. “I mean, maybe a  _lil’_.”

The quarterback chuckles, and Odell can feel the vibration up against his chest. It’s stilling in the best way, grounding him to the moment they’re sharing, no one else around them. He blinks up innocently until Eli bites his lip, nods his head. “Sure,” he concedes warmly, cupping the back of Odell’s head and drawing him into another kiss. This one is a little slower: more languid as they fall back into their old habits, wrapped up in each other as the rest of the lights around the training facility flicker off for the day. Eli's kisses are slow and messy as they open Odell’s mouth up, teeth bumping a little bit as their tongues playfully spar. O finds his hands twisted in Eli’s hair, thinning a little but still strong enough to be pulled—he tests this, only to hear a sharp noise deep in Eli’s throat.  _Oh_.

“Been thinkin’ about you,” Odell pants as they part for air. Eli, whose lips are already reddened from the intensity of the kisses he’d been both giving and receiving, bites his lip in response. O can see the power from that one move—the control he needs,  _god_ , the thought is driving him crazy. “All week, daddy, just—” he reaches out, pulls Eli’s free hand up to his lips and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his palm. Eli shivers. “Wanted you to  _touch_  me.” He hadn’t intended for the whine in his voice to be palpable, but it’s also been two months since they’d physically been together like this and he can’t help the instinct. He watches as Eli’s eyes darken, lust blowing his pupils even wider.

E groans, his weight shifting so that the wooden frame of Odell’s own locker is now pressing into his back. “God, honey," he says, voice a half-growl, “how’d you get prettier since I last saw you...” Odell lets his hand go only for it to snake up his shirt, Eli’s palm flat and warm against the space right below his heart. He presses for a second, starts to inch upwards, and then stops. “You got all ready for me, baby boy, didn’t you? Got ready for your daddy, yeah?” He closes the space between them, presses a brief chaste kiss to Odell’s lips and then pulls back so the receiver has to lean forward to chase it. (He does, of course—soft whine and all.)

“ _Yeah_ ,” Odell manages, his cock hardening as Eli’s thigh shifts against it from their stance. Eli hums tunelessly at this, his hand on Odell’s chest creeping down, now, towards the waistband of his practice shorts. The look on his face remains almost passive in nature—Odell swears he’s going to vibrate out of his practice clothes he’s so worked up, his breathing picking up a little as Eli’s fingers lightly pull at the elastic of his shorts. Desperate and a little shaky, he surges up to drag Eli back to his level, achieving the right amount of distraction to disturb the calm surface of his quarterback’s face while also unknowingly making it easier for Eli’s hand to slide the rest of the way into his shorts.

His hand palms the shaft of Odell’s dick, calloused and warm and somehow hitting  _all_  the sensitive nerves at once, and O breaks from Eli’s demanding kiss to gasp at the sensation, even though Eli chases and recaptures his lips in the half-second between sensory overloads. His hand closes around Odell’s cock without applying pressure, breaking their kiss so that his receiver can catch his breath and fall forward into Eli’s full embrace.

“Oh, baby,” he purrs, his occupied hand slowly stroking upwards and eliciting a half-sob from Odell. “‘s this what you want? Slow like this?” Wordlessly, O shakes his head—his mouth opens, but Eli tightens his grip ever-so-slightly and the moan that falls from his lips cracks in half, tattered on either end. “How do you want it, baby?” At this, Eli releases Odell from his grip, and almost immediately O wishes for that pressure on his dick again. Eli’s head has dipped so that they’re forehead-to-forehead now, their chests rising and falling practically in time, and for a moment, the high-intensity desire that had been driving the two of them fades into the background, some form of tenderness moving to fill the space between them. Eli cracks a smile, voice soft. “Tell me, honey. Anything you want.”

Somehow, this is even  _more_  overwhelming for Odell. He exhales slowly, re-takes Eli’s hand in his own and locks their fingers together. He doesn’t know what he wants—there’s so  _much_  he wants after being separated from Eli for this long,  _so_  much, and he can’t focus on any one thing for too long because he’s wound up beyond belief—Eli’s hand rests against his cheek and draws him out of his thoughts, tilting his head up for a gentle, chaste kiss. “Anything,” E repeats, and  _god_  if they hadn’t spent so much time away from each other, Odell thinks he’d just want to stand here and kiss Eli—just for a while, just because.

But they  _have_  been apart for a while, long distance and separated physically, and the only thing that Odell wants right now is to be filled. Wants to be so full he can’t walk straight, so full he swears he’ll split in two. “I want to ride you,” he finally manages, voice a little husky from the moans that have been rattling around his system. Eli shivers visibly, presses his lips to Odell’s knuckles as the mood shifts dramatically around them. O thinks he can feel his quarterback vibrating at a new frequency.

“Yeah,” Eli replies after a beat. “Yeah, baby, that—” Odell doesn’t let him finish. He hoists himself up on Eli’s hips without another word, and Eli stumbles back for a second, attempting to compensate his footing for the newly added weight of his boyfriend.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work. The two of them tumble backwards and land on the (thankfully thick) carpeted floor of their locker room, Eli taking the brunt of the fall and getting the wind knocked out of him. They lie there for a moment, completely still and on top of one another in the middle of their normally-crowded space, before Eli lets out a hearty chuckle as he splays his arms out on the floor. “Didn’t realize you missed me that much,” he jokes, and Odell giggles as he buries his face in Eli’s shoulder. He doesn’t respond—but, if he’s being honest, he doesn’t need to. O can feel Eli’s arms wrap around him from below, the warmth of his palm now pressing flat against the back of his right shoulder. (Right where the football gets thrown, he thinks fondly, pressing his face a little further into Eli’s skin.) His other hand drags up Odell’s back slowly until it reaches the back of O’s head—Eli shifts so that he’s propped up on one elbow and then leans in to kiss Odell, the hand cupping his head now urging him closer.

“Sweetheart…” Eli’s voice is low between kisses, languid and patient like he always is, and there’s something warm about the slow drawl that lingers in his syllables, something comforting.  _Home_. The happiness curled in Odell’s chest is so tight that he doesn’t think he’s able to breathe right. He can’t help but smile into the next kiss, and the next one, feeling fuzzy all over as his nerve endings keep catching fire every time their lips connect. It’s easy to get lost in them—open-mouthed and leisurely, heat building between their bodies, Odell begins to feel the full force of his arousal as he shifts and inadvertently ruts against Eli’s thigh. Waves of pleasure immediately rush over him at the friction; he does it again, deliberate this time, urging a moan from Eli that vibrates between the two of them as they continue to kiss. It makes Odell  _dizzy_  with want. He could get off right here, right now, he thinks—just rubbing off against his quarterback’s athletic-short-covered thigh on the floor of the team’s locker room is enough after the time they’ve spent apart, after the absence of Eli’s touch he’d had to deal with for two whole months. (It sounds ridiculous, desperate even—but that doesn’t change how much he’d missed this, missed  _them_ , and is resigned to the fact that he’s always going to want Eli this bad no matter how much time has come between them.)

Eli can sense that desperation. He pulls away from Odell’s now-hungry kiss and rests a hand on his shoulder, gentle and tender and radiating heat, and O wants that so bad, wants it  _now_ —“Easy, honey, easy.” He kisses Odell’s cheek chastely, and Odell can’t help the soft little mewl that leaves his lips. “’m gonna give it to you right, okay? Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you, baby, promise.” His hands slide down and tug at the hem of O’s shirt, and Odell wordlessly lifts his arms so that Eli can, with some help, peel it up and off. One of his hands returns to O’s chest, resting against the same spot he’d kissed earlier. “Mmmm, I missed you so much.” His teeth are cool against Odell’s heated skin. “Missed having you like this…” he pushes himself up with his other arm and kisses right above where his hand is settled.

“ _Eli_ ,” O murmurs, voice breathy. Eli nods wordlessly, lips moving against him in soft, sweet nothings that he  _feels_  more than hears. He pushes himself up—like their workouts before, but  _better_ , he thinks afterwards—so that Eli can shove his shorts down to his ankles and then sheds his own, eyes glazed over and dark with hunger. His cock is rock-hard from what Odell can see, flushed red and leaking precome ever-so-slightly. The sight alone makes his mouth go dry. Eli notes this—Odell settles down above his hips, his own dick brushing up against the fabric of Eli’s  _GIANTS_ -emblazoned t-shirt, and his quarterback presses a hand flat to his lower back, a silent reminder that he’s going to make good on his promise.

After reaching over to where his discarded workout bag is sitting and snagging the bottle of lube that he’d taken out before Eli had even gotten there, Odell passes it off, feeling the electricity between them even in this stillness before, even as Eli just slathers it on his fingers, on his cock. He feels like he’s going to tremble into pieces just waiting like this—waiting for Eli to open him up, to touch him, to remind him what they’d missed in their devotion to off-season training away from home. (He remembers, for a half-second, getting a text from Eli when he’d been in Cabo—a kind of blurry image of him holding his dick, fingers curled around it the way Odell  _loves_ , a caption resembling ‘can’t stop thinking about you baby’ except littered with typos the way only his old man could manage, and the feeling of  _fire_  that had consumed him just thinking about being there. He feels that same way now—antsy, impatient, desperate to be full: only this time, he’s going to get what he wants.) He shifts backwards and feels Eli’s hard-on pressing against his back, and that dizziness of arousal washes over him again.

“You ready, baby?” Eli’s voice is raspy at best when he opens his mouth. The arousal in Odell claws at his abdomen again and he can’t manage an actual answer, just nods silently, feeling himself on the verge of shaking apart. With help from his quarterback’s steady hands, O lifts himself up and over Eli’s cock. They lock eyes for a moment, and the look on Eli’s face is so much that Odell thinks he could come right there without anything else. E nods once, twice. With a shaky breath, he sinks down onto it.

The first noise between the two of them comes from Eli, whose strangled moan at the initial contact makes Odell almost stop altogether. Eli’s hand is soft on his hip, gentle and more there for guidance and steadying than anything else. O exhales, and gradually, Eli’s lube-covered throbbing dick fills him, a half-inch at a time. He feels so tight and Eli growls something similar, his voice breaking when Odell finally bottoms out on top of him. He’s so  _full_ , he feels so  _full_ , and he can’t keep his eyes open as Eli shifts his position on the carpeted floor, inadvertently moving within Odell and taking his breath away.

“So  _big_ , daddy,” O whines softly, leaning forward slightly to steady himself on Eli’s chest. One hand slips under his shirt, pushing it up as he stretches forward a little more, and all Eli can do is watch in breathless amazement as Odell visibly adjusts to his cock right before his eyes. “God, ‘m so  _full_.” O throws his head back as he says it, rolls his hips a little and then hisses, not quite ready. Eli gazes up at him.

“Whenever you’re ready, baby,” he murmurs, tenderness filling his voice as the hand on his hip starts to rub little circles into his skin. It’s relaxing—O finds himself adjusting a little faster, muscles unclenching and making the twitch of Eli’s cock inside him start to feel the way he’s needed it for two months. All those nights touching himself and pretending it’s his quarterback, listening to Eli through the phone and jerking himself until he’d made a mess all alone, it’s all come to this moment right here. Odell rolls his hips again, a little less tentative. The pain has subsided. He curls the hand on Eli’s chest so that his blunt nails gently scrape his skin—he looks up, and O nods, not sure if he’s capable of speech right now.

Eli arches up for a half-second, readjusting again on the floor but less gently this time, and a sob tears itself from Odell’s throat, completely raw. “ _Please_ ,” he gasps, and then rocks forward in return. Eli’s hand twitches against the carpet. O lifts himself up off of Eli’s shaft for a few seconds to fully lean forward and pull him into a kiss. Eli, ever the gentleman, obliges eagerly—propping himself up fully on his elbows, now, he leans up and meets Odell in the middle, the tenderness from before falling away as O sinks back down onto him. Their teeth clash; Odell would be laughing at how clumsy they’re being if he weren’t so desperate to come. Eli is all hunger, now, unabashedly biting at Odell’s neck and collarbone as Odell works on him. His shirt is wrinkled and hastily shoved up his torso so that every time Odell bottoms out, his cock slaps Eli’s bare abdomen, the noise practically cracking through the air.

“Oh, baby,” Eli gasps, “’m not gonna—not gonna last, honey, you feel so  _good_ —” he breaks off his sentence as Odell jerks his hips hard. The string of curses is practically unintelligible, but O doesn’t even  _care_ —the motions feel automatic, now, and he can’t control  _anything_  as he opens his mouth, starts to talk the way he knows E likes. Odell wants to be  _full_ , wants to not be able to walk right for the rest of the day, and he knows how to talk his old man up…

“ _Daddy_ ,” he whines, and though he’s halfway through the motion of sinking down onto him again, he sees the way Eli’s head lolls back. “ _Fuck_ , daddy, ‘m ready for you—want you to make a mess of me, please—missed you so bad,  _so_  bad.” Odell isn’t sure when his whine had turned into a half-sob, or when the tears of pleasure had started to form in his eyes, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? Eli’s hands have come back up to rest on his hips but they’re  _hard_  now, digging into his soft flesh so roughly that Odell can feel his dull nails leaving marks on his body. (He can’t wait to feel them later.)

Eli rocks up into him, taking Odell off-guard and practically sending him skittering. “ _Fuck_ —baby, so good for me, yeah? So tight and good for me, god.” He pulls Odell into another kiss, any last semblance of control gone. It’s driving O up the wall, seeing his boyfriend—ever the calm and collected one—losing himself in this, and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to last longer than Eli. “Love you like this, baby. So good for your daddy.” Odell nods eagerly with a breathy whimper. “ _Christ_  I’m so close—honey, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” O murmurs in his lowest, most desperate voice, and god, that’s it for Eli. He cries out O’s name— _Oh-_ dell, his southern drawl making itself known—and comes, hips spasming and jerking as Odell rides him through it. It doesn’t take much more for Odell to lose it, too: Eli, in his post-orgasmic haze, licks a stripe up his palm and then grabs Odell’s cock by the hilt. He barely gets two full strokes in before O climaxes—with a sob, he comes all over Eli’s chest, all over his workout shirt, tears running down his face as the orgasm he’d been waiting so long for finally tears through him. For a moment, he thinks he’s gone blind with pleasure; he can’t remember the last time he’d actually whited out from an orgasm, though it’s no surprise that Eli is the one to get him there.

“’s nice to see you again,” E mumbles after they spend a moment of restful silence together. Odell grins, suddenly bashful. He eyes the mess on Eli’s chest and feels his face heat up. “I really did miss you, baby.”

“I missed you too, E,” Odell responds, his voice a little gravelly. Carefully, he lifts himself off of Eli, cringing at the pain he already feels starting to radiate in his thighs—in his  _ass_. His knees are still weak with everything today had brought him, so he only actually moves to collapse right next to Eli, bare naked against the bright red-and-blue carpeting. The feeling of the rug against his sensitive skin makes him cringe again, but he thinks he’ll live: Eli tilts his head to the side, gives him that dopey lop-sided smile he’s so good at giving, and  _man_. O knows he could feel this way forever.

“Jesus.” Eli is eyeing the mess on his chest, face flushed and sweaty. The smile on his face says it all. “I really got you worked up, huh?” He chuckles to himself. Odell’s face heats up again, and he doesn’t actually know  _why_  Eli makes him so nervous like this—even exposed, even after all of  _this_. He bites his lip and nods, though he’s flat on his back, so it’s more of a side-to-side motion than anything.

“Y’really know me, Easy. What can I say?” At that, Eli rolls onto his side, that same smile now softened into something less cocky and more…fond. He reaches out and twines their fingers together, presses a kiss to the back of his hand.

“That you love me,” he teases. Odell rolls his eyes and stifles a giggle, and Eli squeezes his hand. “What? Am I just a one-night stand to you, Odell Beckham Jr.?”

“Oh, for  _sure_ ,” Odell says. Eli pretends to sigh dramatically, lifting his free hand to his forehead. “’sides, didn’t I, uh,  _show_  you how much I love you? Right there?” He pokes Eli’s chest, pointedly avoiding the mess he’d made. “And there?”

Eli laughs. “You’re so dumb, O,” he mumbles warmly. Odell ducks his head against their twined fingers. “I mean, I love you, but  _man_ , you’re dumb.”

“Thanks, baby,” Odell responds with another laugh. Then, softer: “I love you too. A lot.” The teasing expression on Eli’s face softens. “Maybe, if we head to the shower, I can show you even more of my love.”

“ _Jesus_!” E groans playfully, attempting to right himself. “Odell, I’m an old man, you gotta give me some more time to recover—”

“Take your time,  _old man_ ,” O interrupts with a dangerous grin. He gets to his feet and then helps Eli up, careful to not make even more of a mess on the carpet than they already had. “Got all day now that practice is over.” Eli snorts at his comment good-naturedly, and they head to the showers hand-in-hand. All Odell can do is beam.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for not closing out of this really gross fic! forgive me for being a pile of filth. its been a while since the two actively got it on in this verse. check out [the library](http://eoverse.tumblr.com) for more eli/odell content, both in-verse and out.


End file.
